


Asleep

by My_Young_Friend



Category: House M.D.
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-25
Updated: 2009-11-25
Packaged: 2017-10-03 17:30:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/My_Young_Friend/pseuds/My_Young_Friend
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"It was as though Wilson had just stopped."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Absent

He just lay there, motionless. They'd done an EEG and it wasn't an absence seizure. Foreman had diagnosed catatonia but it wasn't a stretch.

He'd been like it for hours. An Oncology nurse had discovered him in his office. He hadn't responded to pages, which was unusual for him. The noise she'd made calling for help had attracted the attention of the diagnostics team. House had avoided the crowd her yells were drawing to the outside of Wilson's office, and instead hopped over the balcony. As he approached the glass door he could make out Wilson sitting in his chair, staring at the opposite wall. From a distance he seemed to be day-dreaming; but closer House could see what had scared the Nurse. There was no life behind the eyes. He'd seen it in coma patients; it was as though Wilson had just stopped.

Wilson was now in a private room in the psych ward. He'd been poked, prodded and scanned to within an inch of his life. There was no history of mental illness and the trigger was unknown. His last patient had been a breast cancer sufferer but it was good news. She was in remission with a high chance of survival. He'd had no phone calls; there was nothing anyone could find that would have caused this. Foreman was frustrated, Cameron was anxious and Chase was more concerned about House. After seeing Wilson in his office, his boss hadn't gone near his friend. Chase had expected him to convene a DDX immediately. House hadn't said a word. Foreman was the one running the differential with Cameron and himself brainstorming. House was sitting in his office, listening to the Stones and apparently reading a nephrology journal. There was no sign of deep thought or even that he was considering the case. Chase had expected closed blinds and GeneralHospital. He left romantic ideas of a vigil at Wilson's bedside to Cameron's imagination; but this was wrong.

A slam from the office caused all three fellows to jump. House had thrown the journal on the floor and was limping towards the meeting room. Chase breathed a sigh of relief. It was delayed shock after all. This was better. They'd work out what was wrong, cure Wilson and then he could get back to his crossword puzzle.

"Go home."

The three doctors looked at House with matching expressions of bewilderment. Foreman spoke first. "We're not tired. We were considering…"

"Stop considering and go _home._"

"Why?" asked Cameron "If Wilson develops new…"

"For God's _sake_ people, I'm giving you the night off! Go home, get drunk, have sex, preferably not with each other! Leave NOW!" House was yelling by this point, and the fellows were taken aback. House stalked out of the room. Cameron looked close to tears and Chase was confused. Foreman shook his head and gathered his things. No-one was going to work on this case anymore tonight.

**************************

House was glad to be out of that office. Too many memories. The fellows would be back in the morning and he hoped, for the first time in his career, that he could find a new case before then. Whatever happened he would not let them carry on with the other case.

He limped aimlessly around the deserted corridors. It was gone midnight and the hospital was all but empty, only the nightshift keeping the place alive. He was angry and all the walking wasn't helping as it normally did. He kept thinking about Tritter and rehab and anything that wasn't to do with the other case. He thought about Stacy and Vogler but everything went back to the other case. How he'd always relied on the other case to be there to help him and that he'd never returned the favour. He was furious now, not at how he had behaved in the past, but that he wasn't going to change. Each hole he would get himself into he would expect the other man to get him out of. And even when the man's marriage was failing, or when he'd lost his practice because of House, House had done nothing to help.

Looking around, House realised his 'aimless' wanderings had brought him to the psych ward. He was standing feet away from the man's room, where he was probably still lying on the bed staring blankly ahead. He took a deep breath and walked into the room. The man's eyes were closed now, and House was quietly grateful for that. It made this easier. The blank stare was a reminder of yet another time the man had gone through Hell and House hadn't been there.

He pulled a chair over to the bed and sat down, not looking at the man. He tapped his cane on the floor, both from habit and in an attempt to break the oppressive silence of the room. A while later he reached a decision and leant over to whisper in the man's ear.

"Don't wake up."


	2. Awake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What happens when Wilson wakes up?

Wilson was awake now. No-one could explain that either. The attending had put it down to the Benzodiazepines they'd been using. But it had been three days after that course of treatment had begun that his eyes had first started to move. That was two and a half days too long and the diagnostics team all knew it.

House had kept his fellows busy with clinic duty, paperwork and even the odd patient; but all three had spent their spare time trying to help Wilson. After the confrontation in the meeting room none of them had dared mention his name in House's presence again. Each had continued to work on the case. Foreman had 'borrowed' a key to Wilson's apartment to check for any possible environmental triggers. Cameron had spoken to all the patients he'd had that day, including the woman in remission. Chase was testing Wilson's blood and hair for anything they might have missed. He'd done the same tests before and he'd probably do them again but he didn't want Foreman and Cameron to be the only ones doing something.

Wilson's eyes had flickered while Chase was drawing more blood. Chase had quickly placed the samples on the unit near the bed and checked Wilson's visual responses.

"Doctor Wilson! Doctor Wilson if you can hear me, please follow the light," he'd ordered.

Wilson hadn't appeared to hear at first, but when Chase shone the pen-light in his eyes a second time he had groggily followed it.

Chase had called the nurse and appraised her of the change. He'd told her to page Cuddy, the other fellows and Wilson's psych attending as he'd run out of the room. But not House. He'd wanted to tell House himself.

He'd reached the office short of breath, and charged in.

"He's awake! Wilson's awake and responding to stimuli!"

House didn't even look up. "And you're telling me this why?"

Chase had been taken aback. "Huh? I thought you'd want to know."

"I rarely require instant updates on my own patients, why would I need one for someone else's?"

"You kidding me? It's Wilson, he's not just…"

House had cut him off "He's not my patient."

"No" Chase had said patronisingly "He's your best…"

"He is not" anger dripped off every word "my patient."

"Look, I know…"

"Oh you know do you? Well that makes everything different. Tell me Chase, what is it that you know? Because there are some things that I'm just itching to know, like what you were doing in that room to begin with. Right now you should be knee deep in colds and pulled muscles in the Clinic. So please Chase, tell me what you know."

The younger doctor had been speechless. House hadn't mentioned Wilson since the he'd been found and no-one knew if he'd even visited him. But it was Wilson. How could House not care?

"Is there anything relevant you have to say?"

"No." Chase could think of nothing to add.

 

*********************

 

The entire hospital had been abuzz with the news of Wilson's recovery. The attending had banned any visitors until he'd conducted a full evaluation. An hour later he'd come out with mixed news. Wilson was apparently fine, but suffering from retrograde amnesia. There was no way of telling at this point how permanent the memory loss would be. There were no signs of any other problems but the attending was going to monitor him closely to be sure. Everyone had been shocked. All people had wanted was for Wilson to wake up, but no-one had considered what would happen when he did. Cuddy was the first to visit him a day later, when the attending was satisfied that Wilson was stable enough. His parents had objected when they hadn't been allowed in first. Cuddy had tried to explain how fragile Wilson still was, and that if he was over stimulated he could slip back into the catatonic state. They'd grudgingly agreed with her.

Wilson had asked Cuddy if she was his wife, and she'd smiled broadly while correcting him.

"So we're friends?"

"I like to think so."

"Do you know me well?"

"I…I don't know. I thought I did."

"Well you seem honest at least." Cuddy had laughed at this.

Wilson had studied her for a moment. "Lisa. Is your name Lisa?"

Cuddy was suddenly serious again. "Are you remembering? Do you know who I am?"

"I uh, I'm not sure, it just feels like that's the right name for you."

"Can you remember anything else?"

"Do I want to?"

The question had shocked Cuddy. Wilson had continued.

"Something made me, what is it, catatonic? What happens if I remember it again?"

"Well this time we know it's a possibility and we can take care of you." Cuddy had tried to be reassuring and hoped that Wilson didn't pick up the concern in her voice. "But as for remembering, I don't think you have much of a choice."

Wilson had nodded. "So can you tell me some more about myself?"

 

********************************

 

After Cuddy's visit Wilson's memories had continued to return. Within a few days he had remembered enough that not only did he know who he and his family were, but when two nurses had been discussing a case he had correctly identified that the patient had late stage lymphoma. Well-wishers had visited from practically every department of the hospital, including the diagnostics team. There remained one notable exception, however. No-one had mentioned House's absence yet. The nurses and oncologists hadn't even considered him and Wilson's family had been too preoccupied to care where he was. Cuddy and the fellows had considered House and were worried that is was now two weeks since Wilson had woken up, he still hadn't visited.

Wilson was to be discharged the next day, his memory rapidly returning with all but minor memories of childhood coming back to him. House had to be aware of it. But Wilson hadn't brought up the subject and no-one wanted to remind him that his best friend hadn't visited yet.

Not even Cameron mentioned Wilson's name around House anymore. His treatment of Chase had caused them all to consider it an off-limits subject. Even Cuddy had stopped asking House about it. It was like talking to a brick wall, provided said wall was equipped with a sarcasm generator. She'd washed her hands of him and focused on the recovery of her Head of Oncology. The outlook was positive. After a few months of recuperation and psychotherapy it was hoped he could return to work. There would be assessments and periods of supervision of course, but within six months, all being well, Wilson should be back in charge. And her baby would be back to normal.

 

**********************************

 

Wilson was packing in his room when House knocked on the door. Wilson turned and regarded his visitor. "Hello," he said.

"Hi" House responded, uneasily. They stood in silence for a little while, neither knowing exactly what to say.

"Your leaving parade not here yet?" House quipped.

"No, they're running late. Traffic on the expressway. You know how it is," Wilson shot back.

House smiled briefly before his expression became serious again.

"They letting you go home alone?"

"No, my brother's going to stay with me for a while. Just until I get back in to the swing of things."

"That's good."

"Yeah."

Both stood in awkward silence again. This time it was broken by Wilson.

"I'm sorry, but I really have to ask."

House froze waiting for Wilson to continue.

"Who are you?"


	3. Aware

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Why didn't House visit Wilson?

"You don't remember me." House said flatly.

"Well, I assume we're friends or you wouldn't have joked about a parade. But I've not seen you before." Wilson smiled. "I'm a little confused."

"I'm nobody, just a fan." House tried to leave.

"No please, who are you?" Wilson called after him. "I must have known you, and I thought I'd remembered almost everything." There was a hint of desperation in his voice.

"Maybe you aren't meant to remember some things." House left, passing Wilson's brother in the hallway.

"So he finally visited you then. What did he have to say?"

"He wouldn't tell me who he was."

"You don't remember him?"

"No. Do you know who he is?"

"He's House!" Wilson's face remained blank. "Greg House? Your best friend? Arrogant, rude, really smug bastard? Am I ringing any bells yet?"

"Why don't I remember him?"

Wilson's brother shrugged. "Maybe it'll come back to you later. You're not all better yet. Come on, I got a cab waiting for us."

Wilson was silent and made no move to follow his brother.

"James! Are you alright?"

"I'm thinking, not catatonic."

"Don't scare me like that!"

"I had no idea me thinking was so terrifying to you. Must be all the pranks I played on you as a child!"

Giving his sibling a playful shove, Wilson's brother grabbed the bags from the bed. "C'mon idiot, let's get you outta here."

***************************

A month later House opened the door of his apartment to find Wilson standing there, looking pensive. The situation was so shockingly familiar that House instinctively looked down for a suitcase.

"Hi, uh, sorry! I probably should have called. Cuddy gave me your address. Can I come in?"

House said nothing, but gestured for him to come inside.

Wilson rubbed the back of his neck nervously. "So… I was wondering if I could talk to you."

"About anything in particular? Only I don't follow sports and I'm not known for my chatty nature."

"I…don't know. My therapist said it might help for me to talk to you. She thinks that the amnesia was probably emotional because I still can't remember what happened that day or," Wilson paused "or things to do with you. But she thinks if I can start to remember what happened, I can work through why it happened and deal with it."

"Sounds exactly like the type of crap shrinks spew out when they have no idea what to do."

Wilson smiled wryly.

House gestured to the couch and Wilson sat while House hovered near the opposite side.

"You have to admit it's a mystery. Why would I block you out when you weren't anywhere near me when…" Wilson paused, and waved his hands expressively "…everything happened. Cameron told me that we hadn't spoken since the morning, at least three hours before. Did we have an argument? Or did I tell you something that was worrying me?"

"No argument. And you wouldn't have told me about anything bothering you."

"Why not? I thought we were friends."

"I'm not the confide-in-me type."

"Oh."

They continued in silence for a while. House breathed out deeply "You want a beer?"

"Yeah, thanks."

House was reaching for the bottles when Wilson spoke again.

"Do you feel responsible?"

There was a muffled clatter from the kitchen, like the sound of beer bottles being knocked over. When House reappeared his face was unreadable. He stood in the kitchen doorway and stared at Wilson.

"Everyone tells me that you and I were best friends. But you didn't come and see me, and you didn't tell me who you were. Why would you do that?"

House handed over the beer and sat on the piano stool, far away from Wilson.

"People say we're like an old married couple," Wilson continued, "and that we were in and out of each other's offices all the time. And the only reason I can think of for you to stay away is that you think this is your fault."

"It's good to see that a complete mental breakdown hasn't impinged upon your desire to psychoanalyse my every decision."

"Do I do that a lot?"

"Not really, but it was always annoying."

"Sorry. Do you always try and change the subject when you're uncomfortable? "

"I told you, I'm not the deep and meaningful type."

"I'm not asking for a monologue, I just want to know why you feel responsible."

"And I've already told you."

"No you haven't! All you've said is that you don't like to talk about things!" Wilson was getting annoyed until he caught the meaningful look on House's face.

"Wait!" As Wilson made the connection, House hung his head "You feel responsible because you don't like to talk? How would that have anything to do with my…break?"

House continued to stare at the floor. "Do you remember Tritter?"

"Who?"

"Okay this is going to take too long so I'll just cut to the chase."

House looked up into Wilson's expectant eyes and steeled himself.

"I don't talk so you don't talk to me. You don't talk to me so you bottle things up. Wanna know what happens when you bottle things up for too long?"

Wilson stopped, beer halfway to his open mouth. He remained in the position for some time before taking a swig of the beer.

"You're the first person in over a month who hasn't panicked when I stop to think."

"I must be the first person in a month to not be a complete moron."

"No comment" Wilson responded dryly, breaking the tension. House smiled despite himself.

"You mind if I use the bathroom?" Wilson asked.

"Sure." House was glad for the reprieve. He considered throwing Wilson out to avoid continuing the conversation, but as he heard the water running something derailed his train of thought.

Wilson came back to the sitting room and saw a look of deep confusion on House's face.

"What's wrong?"

"How did you know where the bathroom was?"


	4. Alright

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just because it's a revelation, doesn't mean it's good.

Wilson spun round to look back at the bathroom. When he turned back it was with a shocked smile.

"Maybe there's something to this 'crap' after all"

"Or maybe there's no reason for you to suppress memories of my apartment."

Both men spoke simultaneously:

"We should keep talking" "You should leave"

Wilson was non-plussed "What? No! I'm starting to remember things. I might start to remember you!"

"Don't." The response was so quiet that Wilson wondered for a moment if he had imagined it.

"Don't what?" The excitement in Wilson's voice was turning to suspicion, as more wheels began to turn in his head.

"Don't you think you've repressed some things for a reason? Trust your subconscious, it's probably more intelligent than you are."

"Is this… is this why you wouldn't tell me who you were in the hospital? You want to pretend we don't know each other?!" Wilson was livid.

"I think it's best for…"

"Bullshit! You don't give a crap about what's best. You selfish bastard! What, had I been annoying you lately so you decided to cut your losses?" Wilson was yelling by this point, and didn't care. "How fortunate for you that I had a breakdown! You must have been ecstatic when you realised I couldn't remember you. Finally God gave you a way to be rid of me!" Sarcasm dripped off the last phrase.

House had remained silent throughout the tirade. When he made no effort to respond, Wilson grabbed his coat. "You can go to hell!" he spat, before storming out.

House stayed sitting next to the piano and watched him leave. He pulled a bottle of Vicodin from his pocket, and poured three into his hand. Downing them with a gulp of beer, he swung round to face the keys. There was some music on the stand, but his hands picked out a different song as he waited for the high to come.

 

************************

 

The next time the two met it was by accident. House was prowling the halls, avoiding both Cuddy and clinic duty. Wilson had finished a session with his therapist. House saw Wilson first, and sombrely watched as he approached. Wilson walked straight by, ignoring him completely. House took a deep breath and nodded to himself. It was better this way.

 

*****************************

 

Cuddy had offered to give Wilson another office. He'd refused, stating that he liked things the way they were. He had been tentative about his first visit back to it so his brother had accompanied him. When there were no flashbacks and no rush of memories he had relaxed. Collecting the journals he had come for, he headed for the door. Reaching for the handle he hesitated, which did not go unnoticed by his brother.

"You okay?"

"Yeah. I just thought about going out onto the balcony. Taking a look at the view again."

"Do you want to?"

"No, we should get back."

"There's no rush. You can show me the view that stopped little Jimmy in his tracks." Wilson rolled his eyes at the old nickname.

The two Wilsons made their way on to the balcony where they admired the scenery, one enjoying the novelty, the other the familiarity. As House watched them, Wilson's brother cracked a joke which made his younger sibling smile. Seeing Wilson so relaxed, House tried to reassure himself that he had done the right thing. He reached for his Vicodin as the two left the balcony.

 

***********************

 

"You were right, I am a selfish bastard."

It was one of the most unique greetings Wilson had received. Unfortunately opening the door to find House had impaired his sense of humour.

"Nice of you to come all this way to tell me. Good bye"

The cane prevented the door from shutting fully. "I want to talk"

"I can recommend my therapist". Wilson pushed the cane from the door way and closed the door.

From the other side House shouted "She's doing wonders with your anger management!"

Wilson opened the door to respond and found House with both hands held up. "I want to explain"

Wilson's expression remained no less angry but he allowed House in.

"Your brother out?"

"He went home a week ago."

"Right"

House sat on the couch and Wilson sat in the armchair directly opposite. Folding his arms he waited for House's excuses.

"So how are you?" House asked

"Bored waiting for some idiot to stop making small-talk" Wilson snapped back.

House stared at Wilson as though weighing up the situation. Finally he took a deep breath. "You once said to me that I loved being miserable, and that I pushed away people I cared about. You said I was afraid that they might make me happy."

"How foresighted of me"

House ignored the comment "That might have been true with some people. But with you I did it for your own good."

Wilson moved to interrupt but House continued regardless.

"There's a lot of stuff you went through because of me. You lost your practice, twice in fact. You had your car impounded by a cop who also threatened to send you to jail, all because of something I did."

Wilson nodded at House, pushing him to continue.

"You've helped me out of a lot of bad situations in the past. And I've never reciprocated. And it's unlikely I ever will. So I thought it would be better to have no friend than a bad one."

"Then why are you here?" Wilson's expression was beginning to soften.

"Because I'm a selfish bastard. I don't want what's best anymore."

"And you think that coming in here and announcing that you want to be friends again will make everything else you did go away. It's retrograde amnesia, not anterograde."

"Wow, such long words, you should be a doctor or something"

"Well I was considering it but you have to work with some real assholes."

Neither man spoke until Wilson rolled his eyes.

"I don't blame you for what happened with Tritter anymore."

House looked surprised. "When did you remember?"

"A while after I left your apartment."

"Has everything come back now?"

"How exactly can I tell if I've remembered everything when I don't know what I've forgotten?"

House gave him an impatient look.

"I remember Vogler, and Stacy, both times, and Tritter. I remember the argument about Grace. I think that's what triggered everything to be honest. I remembered the last time I'd been so angry leaving your apartment was after that." House stared at the floor.

"And I remember staying with you when I left Julie. I remember the prank war and Tivo marathons. I particularly remember the L-word." House looked up at Wilson, smiling briefly.

"Hot babe-on-babe action, who wouldn't?"

"And I remember talking in the corridor in Atlantic City. And our conversation during your fake detox."

"Can't think why"

"Me either."

"I mean a conversation about platitudes isn't particularly memorable." Both shared a wry smile.

"Promise me one thing."

"When did this turn into a chick flick?"

"House"

"Will I need a hanky?"

"House" Wilson repeated and House said nothing.

"Stop trying to push people away."

"Skip the tissues, I need a bucket."

Wilson sighed, exasperated. House held up his hand in a Boy Scout salute. "I solemnly swear to never push anyone away again unless there is a midget behind them to make them bang their head."

"You've already used that joke once."

"You were much more fun before you got your memory back."


	5. And Finally

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Epilogue: Wilson's first day back and Cameron spills all.

“So how does it feel?”

Cuddy’s smiling face appeared around the doorframe. This wasn’t the first welcome back Wilson had received. Throughout the morning all the doctors and many of the nurses had found excuses to “pop by” and see how he was doing. He didn’t blame them: there were few happy endings in oncology. Still,it was getting a little dull. _“I’m fine! Glad to be back, yes I remember everything, yes I’ll be sure to personally seek you out if I want to talk...”_ Of course he never actually said aloud that he’d rather dance naked through the clinic than speak to any of them about more than the weather. 

“It feels good…” began Wilson, but he stopped when he caught Cuddy’s raised eyebrows.

“And now let’s try for an unscripted answer.” she smirked. 

The first genuine smile of the day crossed his lips. He leaned back, hands interlaced behind his head.

“Good question. I’m torn between _‘bored to tears’_ and _‘uncomfortably nervous’_.” 

“You met with Cushing yet?”

“Later this afternoon. He wants me to get _reacquainted_ with work before we discuss my supervision and probation.” 

“You’ll be fine. It’s practically a formality!”

As the conversation continued, Wilson’s thoughts began to wander. It was almost uncanny how much Cuddy resembled the mothers of some of his cancer kids. The minute the word ‘remission’ was uttered they became almost ecstatic with relief. They assumed that now the treatment was over everything was back to normal. He hated breaking the news to them that this was only the beginning, and relapse was incredibly common. Mostly they ignored him, blocking out anything that would burst their bubble. It was nice, he thought, that for once he wasn’t ethically obliged to disappoint someone. Cuddy was happy; he may as well leave her that way. 

At this point Wilson realised Cuddy had stopped talking, and was staring questioningly at him.

“Sorry,” he smiled, “I missed that last bit.”  

“I was wonderinghow things are between you and House?”

“Different.” Cuddy sensed from Wilson’s tone that this was all the detail she was going to get. 

“But you’re okay?”

“Getting there.”

********************************* 

Cameron rushed into House’s office. “You paged me for a consult?”

“What did Mrs Remission say when you visited her?” 

“What? You told us not to work…” Cameron was mystified.

“Yes, yes and you all did anyway." said House impatiently "Now what did she say?” 

“What makes you think I interviewed…”

House interrupted her again. “Because Chase wouldn’t care and Forman was probably too busy looking for a physical trigger. Only you would consider travelling 60 miles in your own time to talk to someone who may or may not know anything. Very caring! Now what did she say?” 

“Nothing. Wilson told her and her husband the good news, and they left. She didn’t notice anything different about him.”

“So her husband was there with her. That’s significant.” 

“How?”

“Did they hug? Cry? Do any sickly, couple-y stuff like that?” 

“I guess so; she said they were both pretty distracted.”

“Were they together when you spoke to them?” 

“Yes.”

“Did they hold hands?” 

Cameron paused, face scrunched in recollection. “Well yes, practically the whole time.”

“If they’re that saccharine normally then they were probably ten times worse when Wilson saw them.” 

“How is _any_ of this relevant?”

“Did you know Wilson’s divorce was finalised last year? Almost exactly a year to the day of his breakdown?”**** 

“No, I…you think that was the trigger? The couple celebrating together?”

“I don’t think anything.” 

“Have you told Wilson?”

“Why?” 

“Don’t you think he should know?”

“Know what? That the one-time trigger of a one-time event _may_” House emphasised the word “have been something that he can’t avoid in his day-to-day job?” 

Cameron adopted her patented _‘I disagree with your decision but will go along with it until a better option presents itself’_ look. “Was that the consult?"

“No, I actually have a dying patient stashed under the desk. I just thought this conversation was more urgent.” 

Cameron huffed and walked out. House watched her go. She’d probably try and tell Wilson at some point. That would be an interesting conversation. House himself saw no reason to tell him anything. Wilson knew enough. And House would be more careful now. There would be no next time.


End file.
